


Seven Drinks Hermione

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, F/M, brooklyn 99 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: This weekend should belong to the team alone, but Auror Malfoy just has to bring the Head Auror along. Meanwhile, Hermione is challenged to have one or six drinks. Will they all make it out alive?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 77
Kudos: 173





	1. Drinks One and Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niffizzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/gifts).



> Alright, this is a very belated birthday gift for niffizzle. We both adore Brooklyn 99, and a Dramione version of it been a recurring wish. With the cheerleading skills of mcal, and the beta power of niffizzle, and a lot of fun creating it, this is maybe one of my favourite short stories I have written so far. The three chapters of this are entirely written, and I am very excited to share them. You will recognize that the plots is strongly referring to the "Six Drinks Episode" of Brooklyn 99, but not completely the same. 
> 
> There's no profit made with this little story, and I own nothing, not even the whisky in this story.

**_Auror Department, London, Friday afternoon_ **

No matter how often he was in the Head Auror’s office, Draco always felt like he had done something stupid to deserve it, like getting caught replacing the Gryffindors’ pumpkin juice with ale and losing a million house points. That feeling might have a lot to do with the fact that the Head Auror was, indeed, his former Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape. 

Ironically, after finally realising he didn’t want to be a teacher and climbing the ranks in the Auror Department, Snape found himself to be the boss of a bunch of the worst pupils he had ever taught. Or at least, that was what he said whenever one of them screwed up a case. 

“Why are you here, Mister Malfoy, when everyone else of your little group of acquaintances has already left?” The drawled question forced Draco to focus. 

“I just finalised some paperwork,” he explained. Of course, he only did that so he could prove to Granger that he was making an effort. “I wanted to say thank you for giving us a day off so we can spend the weekend at Nott’s cottage.” 

Eyes still focused on a piece of parchment in front of him, Snape replied, “I figured it must be nice to engage in a round of relaxed banter now and then.” 

Something in his voice caught Draco’s attention. “You must have done a lot of that back at Hogwarts.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Draco knew they weren’t true. 

Lips pressed in a tight line and a frown between his eyebrows, Snape answered, “Apparently, I’m not the kind of colleague one asks to join in a round of banter. I can’t count how many rounds of midnight Quidditch the staff of Hogwarts played without me.” 

According to Granger, Draco had random bouts of empathy that made an appearance at the most inopportune of times. This time, it was pity for his former teacher not to be included in group activities. 

“You could join us,” he offered. 

“Pardon me?” 

“I am asking you to come along for our weekend trip. I’m sure you will enjoy the relaxed bantering.” Draco smiled encouragingly, already aware that this was probably a bad idea. 

With a glint in his dark eyes that Draco would call ‘hopeful,’ Snape informed him, “I need ten minutes to pack my standard mission bag, then we can leave.” 

Draco already began to regret his decision. 

* * *

_**Nott’s Cottage, Somewhere in Scotland** _

“Wow, Granger, two bottles of Ogden's?” Pansy pointed at the bag Hermione was unpacking. 

“Why, yes.” The others in the large living room of Theo’s cottage were either unpacking their supplies for the weekend or, in Harry’s case, dozing on a nearby sofa.

“Does that mean I’m finally going to meet six-drinks-Hermione?” 

“Six-drinks-Hermione? What does that even mean?” Hermione asked, sounding more curious than confrontational. She was really trying to get along with Pansy, and she knew it was hard on the witch that the circumstances after the war made her work as a personal assistant to Snape in the Auror Department. But the raven-haired witch wasn’t exactly on Hermione’s wavelength. 

“Six drinks are the pinnacle of the Granger-drunkenness scale.” 

“Huh?” Hermione blew an errant curl from her face. The humidity really did horrible things to her hair. 

“One drink,” Pansy began to count, “and Hermione is a bit spacey.” 

Hermione shrugged. That wasn’t unusual while drinking, was it? 

“Two drinks, and Hermione is loud.”

* * *

_***** Flashback***** _

_ “WILL YOU APPARATE ME HOME?” Hermione yelled at Seamus, who almost dropped his pumpkin juice.  _

_ A sea of heads turned in their direction. After all, the Leaky Cauldron was pretty packed on Friday evenings.  _

_ “Blimey, Hermione! Do you know how that sounds?” Seamus, recovering from being yelled at, grinned.  _

_ “I DON’T CARE HOW IT SOUNDS, SEAMUS. IT’S YOUR JOB TO BRING ME HOME TONIGHT!”  _

_ Seamus, being the designated Apparator for the evening and thus entirely sober, continued laughing as he accompanied his friend outside. _

_***** End of Flashback ***** _

* * *

“I don’t care about your weird little experiment,” Hermione said, summoning two glasses from the kitchen and filling them. Then, she took one of them. “All I know is,” she emptied the second glass, “You’re two shots behind, Parkinson!” Hermione beamed triumphantly while Pansy stared at her, blinking.

Maybe the weekend would bring some surprises, after all. 

  
  



	2. Drinks Three and Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the second chapter. Your comments made my week! 
> 
> Beta love to niffizzle! Without her help, this would be barely readable. And without her support, I would probably lack the courage to write something like this.

Granger hadn’t even placed the empty shot glasses on the coffee table when Draco entered. 

“Look who the niffler dragged in!” Blaise teased excitedly. 

“Finally! The risotto and the crème brûlée _ have _ to be served on time!” Theo added, earning him an eye roll from everyone present. 

“Yes, good things come to those who wait, right? And I had to stop and bring something important with me!” Draco cheered, hoping it sounded perfectly natural. 

“Brilliant, you remembered to bring the Dungeons and Dragons game from my office!” Granger said happily. And loudly. 

“Yes, but that’s not what I was referring to,” Draco replied, a tad confused about her volume. Did she have two drinks already before he had even arrived? But spacey Granger was so adorable! 

“It was not  _ whom _ he was referring to,” Snape drawled, stepping into the open living room. 

Draco wasn’t entirely sure, but he could have sworn that he heard Dumbledore’s ghost giggling somewhere. 

“Well, that’s almost- that’s even better than a board game!” Granger said, a stammer of hesitation in her voice. 

Harry almost fell off the couch. “Sir! Is there an emergency? Has the Ministry fallen again?” He jumped into frisky Auror mode. 

“Relax, Potter. I am here on vacation, just as you are.” 

Harry, satisfied with his superior’s answer, immediately relaxed back into Vacation Harry. 

“I thought it would be a brilliant idea to bring Snape along.” 

When a pregnant pause pierced the living room, Draco stared holes into his friends’ heads. 

“Yes!” Theo finally jumped into action. “Yes, absolutely! The only problem I see is that we don’t have a room left and the floorplan of this house is magically unchangeable…” he trailed off. 

“He can have my room,” Draco blurted before he could catch himself. “I can find another place to crash tonight.” 

“Er… I guess that solves it!” Theo said, though scepticism still coloured his tone. “Let me show you Snape to his bedroom then.” 

When Theo left the living room and Snape followed, the rest of the crew visibly exhaled.

“Draco, really?” The contempt in Blaise’s words was practically dripping. 

“I understand you have an unresolved father complex like many of us, but this? This is one hell of a faux pas.” 

“A what?” Seamus inclined his head as if hoping it was a drink. 

“A mistake, for fuck’s sake!” Blaise translated. 

“You will see, this isn’t going to change anything,” Draco said, trying to squash everyone’s concerns (including his own). “Granger is really happy Snape is here, right? I mean, you practically love him!” 

Granger sat upright, her cheeks vibrant red. “I don’t love him, but I have learned to appreciate him. And I am definitely  _ not _ comfortable being drunk around him.” 

“Why are you screaming at me like that?” Draco complained. 

“Sorry, it’s been two drinks, I can’t help it.” 

Draco glared at Pansy, knowing she was challenging Granger to show her six-drinks self. 

“I should probably stop.” 

Pansy’s grin turned into a scowl. “Great, Draco. You mess up, and  _ I’m _ the one being punished!” 

“Oh, come on!” Draco threw his arms into the air. “I know you all think I am a badass, hard Auror with a checkered past-” 

Granger snorted. Loudly. “Sorry, that was a comment on the ‘badass and hard’ part, not on your past.” 

Draco waved off her comment. “Regardless, I took pity on Severus Snape. He has always been excluded while at Hogwarts and never had teammates like we’ve grown to be. He just wants someone to engage in banter with!” 

Harry settled deeper into the couch cushions. “Frankly, I don’t care. Vacation Harry is here to stay.” 

Looking at his former adversary and now kind-of-boss, lounging on the sofa in a pink bathrobe and producing drinks and snacks from his fanny in short succession, Draco muttered under his breath, “Why do I even respect you?” 

“Because you have outgrown your insecurities as a child and worked through your traumas as a teenager and young adult!” Granger screamed at him. 

Draco blinked slowly. How could she be so intelligent while tipsy? 

“And now I want something delicious to eat!” she added and called, “Theo! Theo, come here!” 

Draco rolled his eyes but was secretly glad because he was as hungry as a three-headed dog. 

The delicious, if late, lunch was like Theo - glorious, delectable, and very awkward. The opulent lunch was perfect, and Theo earned a lot of compliments for it. The dessert was mouth-watering and Draco swore he heard Granger moan while eating it. 

But the conversation at the table? It reminded Draco of the time when Voldemort resided in Malfoy Manor, except for the lack of blood and murder. 

Of course, this was exaggerated, but only a bit. And while Draco remembered other parts of the weekend in every detail for different reasons, his brain immediately repressed any memory of the table conversation. 

* * *

_ So. cold. _

How Snape could suggest a walk on the beach that lay by the cottage, Hermione didn’t know. Maybe he was used to the low temperatures after spending over a decade in the Hogwarts dungeons. 

But Hermione decidedly wasn’t. 

So while they were taking a walk at the shore no one had dared to talk Snape out of, Hermione’s feet were freezing. She tried her most powerful dance moves to help against it - she had a glass of wine with lunch and three drinks Hermione was a dancing one - but it was no use.

Harry, Merlin bless him, must have noticed that because he approached her with a mischievous smile she had seen many times in their youth. 

“Is it possible you’re feeling a tiny bit cold, my friend?”

“Yes! Any chance you’ve discovered the Invisibility Cloak has built-in Heating Charms?”

“And give you an excuse to escape? No way! But I have something else in here…”

He produced a small bottle from his fanny and handed it to Hermione. 

“Is that a miniature vodka? I love you, Harry!” she replied with glee and downed the drink at once. “It’s so, so cold, and not even my dance moves help against it!”

“Then you should consider stopping them or you might take someone’s eye out!” Harry laughed, jumping to the side when Hermione threw the empty bottle after him in retaliation. When she missed, he just laughed harder. 

Instantly, the warmth of the drink suffused her body as she watched Harry approaching Seamus to also offer him something alcoholic.

“Do you think we’re near Hogwarts?”

Apparently, Neville had caught up with her. 

“Of course, we are!” she answered, knowing very well they were. But she wouldn’t reveal that Minerva McGonagall had told her the exact geographical position of the castle. Hermione dreamed of returning to the school as a professor one day. It could be a good place to raise children, after all. If she found the right wizard to procreate with and if the wizard agreed to locate their home within the ancient wards of Hogwarts. 

Said wizard wouldn’t be Neville, even if he was looking at her so hopefully right now, as he often did. 

“How do you-”

“Granger!” a deep voice came from behind her. Malfoy, she knew without a doubt.

Hermione couldn’t count the instances in which she had relied on the blond in their job. Nor could she count the times she had stared into his eyes, admired his behind, or appreciated his sense of humour. 

“Hey, we were having a conversation here!” Neville pouted.

“Excuse me. Continue,” Malfoy stated drily. “And while you talk, I will warm this freezing witch up.” 

It was true; Hermione was still feeling cold. Her nose felt as if it wasn’t a part of her body. That changed the second Malfoy placed his arm around her and tucked her into his side. 

“That feels much better,” she preened and snuggled deeper into his embrace as if they had done this several times before. 

Neville mumbled something about wasted opportunities and stomped away. Hermione spent the way back to the cottage in silence. After all, there were too many inappropriate comments about the way Malfoy made her feel walking beside her, and four drinks Hermione was dying to release them. 

* * *

“I haven’t smoked a pipe in ages,” Snape declared while he filled his. 

The group had gathered around the big outdoor fireplace and added some Warming Charms. Even with the fire roaring, the Scottish cold threatened to freeze them, especially now that the sun was starting to set. 

“Really? I think this was one of the few harmless habits my father possessed in my childhood. My parents reading in the library, the rich smoke of the pipe, and both of them with a well-aged Firewhisky in their hands.” Draco reminiscenced while pulling from his own tumbler of whisky. 

The mood turned somber for a moment, before-

“And then he took her upstairs to pursue their naughty marital duties.”

Snape’s pipe stopped and Neville’s tumbler slipped from his hands.

Granger shrugged, unfazed by her own comment. “What? Lucius might be a Death Eater and an arsehole of epic prepositions, but even under house arrest, he is still hot!”

“Thank you, Granger,” Draco gritted out. “How many drinks have you had now?”

“Four; it’s only apple juice in her glass,” explained Pansy, nearly falling off the couch from giggling and heavily leaning on an equally amused Seamus.

“Do you think that hotness extends to his son, too?” Blaise challenged, earning himself a warning glare from Draco.

Draco was equally curious and anxious to hear when Theo, out of the blue, asked, “Professor Flitwick once told us that in the 1980s, it was pretty common for the Professors to smoke a pipe in the staff room together.”

Pansy’s groan was heard over Snape’s answer. “That is correct. Sprout’s predecessor, Professor Grownwheats, had the habit of inviting the staff to smoke with him over lunch break. He was barely ever seen without his pipe, and I must say, the few times I was invited to participate, I found it very relaxing.”

“Maybe for our next trip, we could visit him for a pipe or two. Is he retired now?” Harry asked, suddenly very curious.

“That won’t be possible. He died before he could retire. Apparently, one of his pipe herbs had grown a bit too potent if you catch my drift,” Snape explained conspiratorially.

“There isn’t a problem with too much potency for a man if you catch  _ my _ drift!” Granger said, winking exaggeratedly at Draco, who suddenly felt like he had been hit with a Warming Charm right in the chest. 

“Four-Drinks Hermione is a bit of a pervert?” Blaise asked Pansy quietly, who nodded. “Merlin, give the woman another drink!”

Theo filled Granger’s glass with Firewhisky. She downed the drink without needing any further cue, cheered on by Harry and Pansy. Snape observed the scene with a sceptically raised eyebrow, and Draco knew that the situation was getting out of control. Snape was looking like he did back at school when he knew a student was wrecking absolute havoc with an easy potion. 

_ Not a good sign.  _

Draco had to do something. Maybe break up the group into smaller units - the motto ‘ _ Divide et Impera _ ’ had served the Roman Emperors well enough for a few centuries, it should work on some Aurors, too, right?

  
  
  



	3. Drinks Five to Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the longest, yet last chapter of this short story. I had a blast not only writing it but also reading your comments!
> 
> As always, give all your love to my beta niffizzle!

Breaking up the group was easier than expected. 

Draco casually mentioned to Snape that the newest edition of  _ Potion Monthly _ was in the living room. Then, he shooed the others to the garden shed, a place where they partied as teens when Draco visited Theo during the holidays. It was a cozy space, along with a bar and a fireplace as well as some wizarding board games. 

The moment they all had made it over there, Draco announced, “Alright, squad. We need to keep Snape occupied.” 

“All of a sudden, you’re taking the lead, Malfoy?” Harry inquired from the place on the armchair he had claimed upon entering, his whisky tumbler firmly in his hand and feet flopping in his pink bunny slippers. 

Draco shrugged. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done that before. He just hadn’t been so forward about it. 

“Vacation Harry approves,” Harry declared, nodding. 

Hearing the supposed Saviour of the Second Wizarding War referring to himself in the third person worried Draco a little, but he had a plan to pursue. 

“Our Head Auror is over there, in the living room, and the potions magazine will keep him busy for another ten minutes or so. From then on, we are rotating. At least three of us talk to him, play cards, whatever makes him happy and think that is what we usually do during these get-togethers. Seamus, Blaise, Pansy, you start.” 

The three of them obliged, Seamus and Blaise with a semi-professional nod, Pansy by blowing him a kiss. 

At first, Draco’s plan seemed to succeed. Every twenty minutes, one of them disappeared to the garden shed and changed positions with another Auror. In the shed, the party went along splendidly. The alcohol was flowing freely, and the snacks provided by Theo were delicious. In the cottage’s living room, on the other side, they held meaningful conversations — the latest edition of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , the newly discovered thirteenth use of dragon blood, the Wizengamot’s diverging court rules regarding law breaks from traditional magical families compared to Muggleborn or half-blood ones. 

Shortly before midnight, Draco was in the living room with Blaise, Granger, Harry, and Snape. That was when he realised that five drinks Hermione was a weirdly confident one. 

“Come on, Sev. It’s time.” She waggled her eyebrows and twirled her wand between her fingers, a wine glass in the other. 

  
  


“Explain, Miss Granger.” The only indication that Snape, too, had had a drink or two, was that he ignored the use of his first name and that he, in turn, was addressing her like he used to back at school. The witch in question hadn’t been ‘Miss Granger’ since she had saved his arse in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Granger smirked at her boss. “For that long due duel,” she stated silkily. “You know I’m the best of the squad. Even better than Draco.” 

Draco’s ears warmed when they registered his name rolling off those lush lips. Now wasn’t the time to demand more, more,  _ more _ of that.

Before Snape could give her his usual, embarrassing speech about the influence of alcohol on duelling capabilities and wand wielding in general, Draco reached for Granger’s hand and pulled her with him. Strangely, she complied and let him lead her away. 

“Ohhhh! Are we finally getting to the part of the weekend when you have your wicked way with me in some secluded corner?” 

“What? No? No, of course not!” 

He almost regretted his impromptu answer when she administered a pout that was more tempting than throwing her clothes off. 

“Granger, I…” He needed a second to gather his wits. “I just wanted to remove you from a situation you might regret tomorrow. Challenging Snape to a duel isn’t a good idea, even for the best of us.” 

Her pout disappeared and was replaced with a happy smile. “You admit that I’m the best dueller on the squad?”

”I admit that you are good and that I definitely want you to go outside and get some fresh air.” He turned the charm on and offered her his arm. “Will you follow me, my lady?” 

After a very un-lady like snort, Granger slipped her arm through his. 

“We’re taking a short walk outside,” Draco addressed the room. A wolf whistle from Blaise was silenced by Draco’s glare. 

When he led her to the garden shed, Granger emitted a disappointed huff. “You aren’t really taking me for a walk, right? Your only goal was to stop me from beating Severus in a duel.” 

Draco almost turned around for that walk when he looked into her large, soft brown eyes which — and he knew from experience — could become hard and unyielding from one second to another. 

He sighed dramatically. ”Maybe tomorrow when you aren’t in danger of drunkenly falling into the sea?” They had arrived at the shed, and he gestured for Pansy to come over. “For now, I’m leaving you in Pansy’s manicured hands. You’re going to take good care of her, aren’t you?” he instructed (and partially warned) his friend. “And no more drinks for her!” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I’m a bitch, but I am not an idiot.” 

Upon Draco’s questioning glance, Pansy continued, “It seems like I’ll have to take a page from Granger’s book and try the scientific method for once. Meaning I have to construct a controlled environment to provoke an appearance of six drinks Hermione. Like the Manor, for example.”

“I don’t like the subtle implications of this, Pans,” Draco remarked, earning an amused laugh from his friend. 

“Some things are greater than us, Draco-bear. You just need to let them happen.” She cupped her hands around Granger’s shoulders to steer her back into the shed. 

Granger had been muttering the magical properties of the plants around them as Draco and Pansy spoke and now held an impromptu lecture to herself about the underestimated prowess of dried rosehips. That brought a smile to Draco’s lips and pulled a huff from Pansy’s. 

Nevertheless, Pansy pulled Granger with her. Knowing that Granger couldn’t do anything too confident around Snape now, Draco returned to the living room. What he discovered made him stop dead in his tracks. 

Blaise, Harry, and Neville (where had that unnerving bloke come from?) were playing a round of cards. But the fourth man, redeemed Potion Master, Order of Merlin First Class and Head Auror, Severus Snape? He was snoring in the armchair, head leaning back and mouth open, an empty cognac tumbler still resting in his hand. 

“The fuck?” Draco cursed, stumbling into the room. “What did you do, Blaise?” 

“Nothing,” Blaise replied, a pipe resting on his lower lip and pointing at Potter. “This is all Potter’s doing!” 

The Auror and Idiot in question merely shrugged at Draco’s glare. Draco stared on, knowing from Granger’s narrations that The Saviour would soon break under a strict, librarian stare. 

“Well,” Potter indeed brought forth, “I may have put some Sleeping Draught into his cognac.” 

Draco gaped “What? Why did you do that?” 

“Call it revenge. Snape himself made it practically tasteless.” 

Suddenly, Draco understood where he was coming from. A few weeks ago, Potter had a case where he worked undercover to catch Sheldon Shafiq, a shady and highly criminal member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That wizard had a refined taste of cognacs, so drugging him with his five-o’clock-drink had been a reasonable way to check his books and gather evidence for his crimes while he was asleep. Snape had made fun of Potter’s potion skills and prepared an adapted version of the Sleeping Draught. To Draco, it seemed like the Potions Master had underestimated Harry Potter’s grasp on the art’s skills. But one question was left unanswered. 

“ _ Why _ did you do that now?” 

“Because Vacation Harry doesn’t want to listen to a lecture about shield spells.” 

Before Draco could think of a reasonable response, a Patronus in the shape of a gazelle jumped through the window to his left. 

“Come to the shed. Seven drinks Hermione has happened.” 

Draco rested his forehead against his palms, groaning. “This is a catastrophe.” 

“No, it isn’t. With Snape asleep at least until dawn?” Potter nodded and Blaise continued, “We have a free reign to partyyyyy!” He summoned confetti from the nothing and threw it in the air. 

Again, Draco groaned. “Alright, I am sending the rest of the squad in your direction.”

Resigned, he trotted over to the shed. Pansy’s Patronus had sounded urgent, but he knew that if it had been a real emergency, his friend would already have personally dragged him to the garden shed.

He opened the door to Theo doing an impressive impersonation of Sybill Trelawney predicting the championship win of the Chudley Cannons for the Quidditch League Cup, standing on the coffee table with a glass of red wine in his hand threatening to spill on the Peruvian carpet underneath. 

Draco didn’t fear for the carpet. After drinking too much and vomiting on it several times in his younger years, he knew that the piece was protected with strong Repelling Charms. He was more concerned about the witch on the right, reclining on the second sofa with her head on Pansy’s head: Granger. Who was currently talking to the other woman while she was considering her (Slytherin) emerald green nail polish with awe. And fuck if he wasn’t a bit turned on by the sight of Granger snuggling into Pansy’s lap. 

He shook his shoulders like a wet dog and concentrated on taking the lead. 

“Don’t ask how, but Snape is fastly asleep,” Draco announced to the room. “The squad party continues in the house from now on. Take your glasses, folks, and go.” He tilted his head towards his friend still standing on the table. “Also, Theo, really? The Tutshill Tornados are going to win and you know it!” 

A pillow was thrown his way before the drunken group left the shed in howling laughter. He gave an amused chuckle before turning to Pansy. She was still hovering over Granger. 

“Apparently, six drinks Hermione is sad and sick,” she explained. 

Draco heard Pansy’s words, but they didn’t match the now happily smiling woman on her lap. “Doesn’t look like it.” 

“Yes, because Pansy is a competent bitch and knows how to brew a Hangover Potion that is watered down enough to eliminate the nausea but not the drunkenness.” 

“Does she?” Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. Pansy wasn’t dumb, but she also wasn’t exactly a genius in potion brewing. 

“No, she doesn’t,” Pansy stated with a proud grin. “But she  _ does _ have the key to Snape’s potion stash for criminals and undercover missions.” 

It escaped Draco why their boss would need such a potion at the ready, but he reacted on Pansy’s cheekiness with an amused snort. “Why did you call for me then?” He nodded in Granger’s direction who was now playing with her own curls as if she had never seen them before. 

“Because, after the potion, she nicked another drink from under Theo’s hands, and seven drinks Granger is not only clingy, but also demanding. And whom did you demand for again?” 

“Mafl- Malo-  _ Dracoooo! _ ” Hermione giggled. 

“And there he is, Granger. Mission accomplished.” Carefully, Pansy pushed Hermione off of her, leaving the brunette witch lying on her back. 

She got up from the sofa and approached Draco. In his ear, she whispered, “She is all yours now. Thank me later.” 

“What?” Before Draco could demand that Pansy explain that not so cryptic message, she slipped through the garden shed door. 

That left him alone with a drunk Hermione Granger, who was presently gripping the fabric of his trousers and pulling him towards her. 

“Woah, Granger. Be careful, or you’ll strip me out of my trousers.” 

“Maybe that is exactly what I want?” she said before adding, “Come sit with me, please?” 

He couldn’t resist her, and she probably knew it. Sighing as if his nerves weren’t all aflutter, Draco sat down on the couch. Not even three seconds later, Hermione had assumed the same position with him as she had with Pansy. “Mhm, that’s so nice. That is so comfy,” she voiced, closing her eyes. 

“True,” Draco had to admit. It was really comfy. And, he realised with a shock, he desperately wanted this. 

His mind started to wander with possibilities.

Granger, or rather, Hermione, curled up next to him. Whispering sweet things to her while they both were reading beside the roaring fireplace. With the whispered words turning naughtier as the day progressed. Though, in his fantasy, they both were entirely sober and weren’t at Theo’s house. 

“Draco, I have a confession to make,” she spoke into the comfortable silence between them. 

“Did you forget to file something properly?” he teased. 

She laughed. “Nooooo, of course not!” She opened her eyes, but her focus remained on the ceiling. “I need to tell you a secret!” Without waiting for his answer, she whispered, “I like you.” She reached up with her hand, touching Draco’s nose and cheeks. 

He caught her finger and playfully bit her, making her giggle. At the same time, he didn’t want to let himself hear what he hoped she had said. “I like you too, Granger. And I like Theo, and Pansy, and sometimes even Potter.” 

She started playing with his sleeves. “Not like that!” The witch shook her head feverently. “I don’t like you the same way that I like Harry or Neville. It’s different with you.” 

He knew she was pretty drunk, but he was still curious. And a bit hopeful. “Different how?” 

“I like you non-plata... non-pleton — like a girlfriend likes her boyfriend!” 

He said nothing. Words escaped him. 

But she wasn’t done talking, it seemed. “And I really would like to kiss you and do many, many very naughty things to you, Draco.” Her voice was husky when she said his name, and a part of his mind wanted to offer her his body for that. But when her fingers wandered up again, gripping the front of his shirt to pull him down to her, he stopped her. 

“No.” He was surprised at the firmness of his words. 

The drunken haze in her eyes lifted for a moment, making way for what he thought was vulnerability.  _ Hurt. _

“Not like this,” he amended, much softer. “As much as I want to.” 

He removed her hand from his shirt and pressed a lingering kiss on her wrist before placing it back on her body. 

That seemed to be the right thing to say, for she smiled serenely and murmured, “Okay.” 

And with that, she fell asleep. 

Not gentle or gracefully; she simply had closed her eyes and started snoring audibly. Draco laughed quietly at the situation he was in. The witch he wanted to be with had basically admitted her love to him, but she was under the influence of alcohol, so he didn’t know how much truth there was in her confession. But he also  _ knew _ her. Even in her drunken state, Hermione Granger wouldn’t tell lies or make things up.

She liked him. Just as he liked her. 

Having that sorted out rationally, Draco sat in the quiet and peaceful atmosphere of the garden shed for a few more minutes. He enjoyed the feel of Hermione snuggled into him, her warmth and her scent. Paired with the sound of the waves of the sea faintly in the background, he was almost lulled to sleep. 

Before that happened, he reminded himself that Hermione probably wouldn’t want to wake up on the couch. Draco carefully took her into his arms and — thanking the Deities that he was keyed to the cottage’s wards so he didn’t have to carry her through the party folk in the living room — Apparated them to the room Hermione was staying in. 

With closed eyes, Draco spelled her into her sleepwear. She didn’t even flinch when he arranged her body into a comfortable position and pulled the blanket over her sleeping form. But when he wanted to leave to go to bed himself, he found he couldn't. 

He didn’t want to leave her alone. Besides, once morning came, she’d want an explanation as to how she had gotten to the bedroom. With a swish of his wand, he had summoned his own pyjamas and slipped under the covers next to her, falling asleep only seconds later. 

* * *

Being decidedly less drunk than Hermione, Draco woke up a bit before her. He couldn’t help but smile as he observed the process of her coming back to her senses. 

First, her eyes blinked slowly, accompanied by some huffs and sighs. With her eyes still half-closed, she started moving, stretching her limbs. Somewhere along the way, her brain must have reset to the point that it wondered where it was. As a result, her eyes suddenly opened fully and glanced at the ceiling. 

Draco remained laying still on his side next to her, simply looking at the witch, feeling a bit like a fool in love. 

Next, the witch’s hands fell on her legs, belly, and bosom, apparently surprised to find the shorts and t-shirt she had packed as nightclothes. Her hands still on her curves, she turned her head to the side, finally finding Draco’s gaze. She blushed when she saw him there, causing Draco to smile wider. Merlin, she really did things to his heart. 

“Hi,” he greeted. 

“Hi.” Her blush deepened. 

Draco didn’t know what made him so sure that  _ this _ was the moment. Either he’d catch the proverbial Snitch, or he’d lose the game. 

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she started, but Draco interrupted her. 

“Non-platonically.”

“Huh?” 

“It’s a test, Hermione.” He smiled at her. “You love tests, don’t you? So say it. Say, ‘non-platonically.’” 

Understanding settled on her features, and she whispered, “Non-platonically.” 

Relief flooded Draco. He leaned forward so his nose was almost touching hers. 

That seemed to encourage her, and she continued, also leaning forward. “I like you very much, non-platon-” 

Again, she couldn’t finish. Draco had heard enough and pressed his lips gently against hers. 

Once they kissed, he knew he wouldn’t ever want to stop kissing her. 

Although, he would love to meet eight drinks Hermione one day. But for the moment, no Halloween heist could stop him making out with her. 

Right…? ;-)

  
  



End file.
